


motherf@%*#$

by p0w



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder Mystery, No Lesbians Die, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 10:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0w/pseuds/p0w
Summary: In which Peter is (literally) a starving student, Tony has issues, and Wade just wants to help.And something weird is happening on the coast of Scotland. Weird weird, like, dead bodies materialising in car parks weird.





	motherf@%*#$

**Author's Note:**

> um ok so this is just an exercise in trying to develop my writing skills™ but i do hope you enjoy it. it will be happy and joyful and i will do my very best to turn it into a lesbian love story. Merci!

    It is dark. Pitch black, almost, but the light from the street comes in through the windows, and casts a faint glow across the room. Just enough to see, if you were to squint, that, on the sofa at the far end of the room, there is a man, fast asleep. He is snoring. He lies there, sprawled in a way that appears uncomfortable, as though he sat down for a minute and fell asleep against his will. It is too dark, for anyone with normal human eyesight, at least, to see the empty whisky bottle that has been dropped by the sofa. A digital clock blinks on the wall. . The thin green lines of the numbers seem accusing, almost. Go to sleep they tell you; this is not a time to be awake, not a time you should be blinking back at. 

 

    The man’s name is Tony Stark, and he is alone in the room (a workshop of sorts) but just as the clock flickers onto 2.48, the glass door swings, for a second, as though it had been pushed open and then dropped closed again.

 

    It is cold. At this time of year, the sun rises mid-morning to a world covered in frost, and sets early afternoon to give way to a freezing night. It is distant, cold, and rarely there, like an emotionally manipulative boyfriend. When it rains, it's snow. It's always windy: a cutting wind, it knows your soft spots and it goes for them, leaving you shivering and teary eyed. Cars on the busy streets drive through floods of wet, black, slush; people walking reach their destinations with wet feet, and damp trousers clinging to their ankles. Sometimes they fall: it is icy.

 

    A woman walks along the streets - empty at this hour. She is alone too. She does not shiver, despite her lack of coat.

    

    She does not have a name. If she did, she would not tell you it. 

 

    If she did, she would lie. 

 

-

 

    Tony Stark wakes up at four minutes past ten the next morning, although he is too hungover to look at the clock. His tongue feels dry and swollen in his mouth, the room is so bright that it hurts to open his eyes, and his head is pounding, a dull ache behind his skull, sharp pains at his temples… He tries to move, to sit up (he has pins and needles in his entire left side) his body - tired, aching, cramping muscles - protests. He collapses back down. 

“It's way too bright in here.” Stark announces to the room. 

“Oh, my apologies for that sir,” Jarvis replies louder than he normally would, from the speaker just by Stark’s head. “I'm so terribly sorry.”

Stark winced.

“Shut it. Lights off, darken these windows, wake me up in two hours.”

Quieter, “Yes, sir.”

 

    The AI said nothing about the body lying - mostly dead - on the roof of Stark’s tower, it did not know it was there. Technically, according to all known laws of science, it was not. 

 

-

 

    On the other side of the city, Peter Parker is running late. He had gotten more hurt the previous night that he had appreciated at the time, and could hardly move his battered body into the shower when his alarm went off. Then, he had ran into his neighbour, Irene, as she came into the building's foyer with a bag full of groceries, and he just _had_ to help her carry them up to her flat. But now, he has a interview, for _the_ postgraduate research position at _Stark Tower_ , with _Stark Industries_ , in fifteen minutes. He's running, faster than a human can technically run, and if he were anyone else he would have slipped on the ice already by now, but he is _going_ to get there on time. 

 

    (This is New York, so while in nearly every other city in the world he may have attracted some weird looks, here, people truly just don't care.)

 

    He does. He pulls up in front of the building with a whole seven minutes to spare; sweating, although less than what might be considered normal, and takes a grand total of two steps towards the door before his senses go haywire. His muscles clench up and his fists clench, and with his shoulders clenched around his ears all he can hear is the harsh ringing of alarm bells inside his head. It's when he takes some deep breaths to calm himself, that he realises what the problem is: the tower smells wrong. Wrong is a way Peter can't describe, having never been near the tower before, but, wrong. Not exactly dangerous, but definitely unsafe. Shaking his head to dislodge his obviously irrational thoughts, he forces himself to relax his shoulders, and steps inside. 

 

-

 

    On the other side of globe, Wade Wilson comes back to life. 

“Oh, motherf@%*#$ !!” he says. He tries again, “Motherfucker! Ah, that's better.” He looks down at his body. No, down further than that. It was lying at the bottom of a canyon. “Oh, shit.”

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i write when i can, & i really want this to grow(!) but, no promises. please be gentle xx


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